


Venti Blonde Flat White

by SHSLshortie



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Bakery and Coffee Shop, Baristas, Coffee Shops, Done with everything Sephora Employee Kuroo, M/M, Overworked Barista Tsukki, Starbucks, aggressive flirting and puns, trigger warning: bad pick up lines
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-29
Updated: 2018-08-29
Packaged: 2019-07-02 17:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15801384
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHSLshortie/pseuds/SHSLshortie
Summary: Based on this tumblr post:"I ordered a blonde flat white from Starbucks while on my break, and the barista must have been having a long day bc he goes 'That would be my stripper name' and there was like five seconds of dead silence between us before he looked up and realized that he said that out loud"----------------------------—————————————When Kuroo finally took his break from working the Sephora counter, all he wanted was to inject 4 shots of espresso directly into his blood stream so he could make it through the rest of the day without pulling out his own hair. However the barista waiting for him at the end of the Starbucks line put a few other thoughts in his mind. But whatever Kuroo was expecting, itdefinitelywasn't that. Either way, he sure is awakenow.





	Venti Blonde Flat White

Whichever makeup gods tricked Kuroo Tetsurou into thinking he could work at the god-forsaken hell hole that is called  _Sephora_ deserved to be stuck in Yomi* for all eternity. Because "world of darkness" could vaguely be translated into "store of contour and shadows", right? Well, hell definitely took it's proper form on earth in a black and white striped store, constantly filled to the brim with privileged women who want nothing more than another identical eyeshadow palette to match the other twenty in their collection — who will no doubt yell, scream, cry or all of the above if it is not in stock. So yeah, Kuroo worked in hell. 

A few dollars over minimum wage was  _not_ worth the hours of torture both his brain and feet had to go through on a daily basis. Of course, Kuroo couldn't afford to quit the best paying job a university student could ever hope to get without doing something illegal, but he definitely entertained the idea daily. What he could afford however, was coffee.

Thank god Kuroo's gay ass worked at a Sephora, because he needed a few layers of that  _good quality_ $30 concealer to cover up his designer under-eye bags. He barely slept — despite what the perpetual bedhead implied — thanks to an overloaded course schedule full of STEM classes and a research project. If it weren't for about 4 cups of coffee a day, Kuroo would probably wind up face planting into the 'Make Up Forever' display while reorganizing the foundations and single shadows. Normally, because he is, how they say, 'a broke ass bitch', he would just pack a giant coffee tumbler full of whatever shitty keurig pods he used that morning, and he would deal with it. But at least once every week, Kuroo would splurge on his shame-filled white-girl guilty pleasure: Starbucks. 

Usually, this would mean visiting one of the drive-thru Starbucks near either campus or Kuroo's apartment, but the other day when parking was a nightmare, Kuroo saw that there was a Starbucks that had just opened on the side of the mall opposite his work. Of course, the tall student's cat-like tendencies got the better of him (as always), and he  _had_  to see if it was worth wasting his break to wait in line in a cramped mall Starbucks. 

While still wearing his red and black uniform shirt and his waist apron, Kuroo trekked across the pedestrian infested walkways of the mall. Thank god he didn't have his break scheduled during the lunch rush, or the usual late afternoon congestion, otherwise it would have been a waste to even  _try_ and make it to the coffee shop and back in time to drink it. Still, when he saw the rather pointless but nonetheless iconic green awnings, he heaved a sigh of relief at how short the walk had proven to be. And luckily, the line was not out the door. 

Out of habit, he pulled his phone out as he got in line to pass the time and clear any notifications that had accumulated since he had started his shift. It wasn't until he became aware of his unconsciously shaking leg or his proximity to the cashier, that he looked up to scan the menu and see what he wanted to order. And boy,  _did he._

The slightly-annoyed pout that Kuroo could feel stuck on his face quickly grew into a predatory smirk as he found something new to crave besides coffee. Behind the counter was a tall — _god_ was he  _tall —_  blonde, hipster-looking barista wearing a rather fitting pair of glasses, and a creme-colored sweater over a black collared shirt which was only minorly obscured by the green Starbucks apron. Even from behind those glasses, and with little help from the mood lighting in the shop, Kuroo could make out the different colors in the young man's hazel eyes. Along with some very evident exhaustion and irritation that probably came from dealing with similar clientele to Kuroo, however on a much more annoying scale for the blonde.

Kuroo had to mentally restrain himself from licking his lips as he took in the tall, blonde drink of water that was  _definitely_ his type. And Kuroo was  _thirsty._

Speaking of "tall and blonde", god did a Blonde Flat White sound good right about now. Not Tall though. Today was a Venti kind of day.

Luckily, Kuroo's internal musings had bought him just enough time to be ready when he was finally faced with the plate of dessert that was standing just behind that counter, waiting for him to order his damn coffee like every other shmuck that barista had probably had to deal with today. No, Kuroo thought as he took a very deliberate look at the barista's name tag which read  _"Kei"—_ he was determined to enjoy his break today. 

He couldn't help the smirk that naturally found it's way to his face as the blonde looked up from his register with a pen in hand; the look of disdain coming from behind those black frames would have made a lesser man crumble, but not Kuroo. That look just revved up his provocation engine. 

"Name," The Barista deadpanned; it was probably supposed to be a question, but it sure as hell wasn't one.

Kuroo just raised an eyebrow before he unleashed the full snark. "What, no greeting?" he guffawed. "No 'Welcome to Starbucks, how are you doing today?”? I am offended!" The brunet did his absolute best impression of the hundreds of budding drama queens that patronized his own store. "Aaaaand since you so _politely_ asked, I am doing O- _Kei_ ” which the rooster-haired man punctuated with a very obvious wink and a shit-eating grin. 

A vein visibly popped on Kei’s forehead in anger. Tsukishima normally had a smidge more restraint, but he literally could do nothing to stop the twitching of his upper lip in a sneer. He had been working since 5am and only had to work for another half hour before he could clock out, and he _didn’t_  need to put up with this shit. 

His waning customer service façade barely stayed in tact as Tsukishima choked out:  “Name... please...” through gritted teeth and twitching upper lip. 

Kuroo barely managed to contain his snickering, because he was determined to crack him. “Oooooo, feisty aren’t ya? Well, the name is _Kuroo”_ which the makeup artist drew out in the lowest drawl he could manage, before giving the barista a pointed up and down look. “But _you_ can call me Tetsurou.”  The ever-present smirk on his face grew even wider with the suggestive raise of his dark eyebrows. 

Tsukishima Kei’s sense of humor had died a long time ago, but surprisingly his patience was alive and kicking. Without even missing a beat, the blonde retorted with a pen in his hand. “How do you spell that? S-H-I-T-H-E — oh who cares, it’s not like I would spell it right anyway.” The blonde shrugged and put the pen down and quickly typed whatever name he decided on into the label printer.

The barista's comeback did nothing to dull Kuroo's nuclear-powered arsenal of piss-poor puns and pickup lines.

"Are you the Wi-Fi? Because I need your password so I can feel a stronger connection." Even Kuroo knew that this was shitty at best, but even the worst pick up line could be smooth if it was said in a low enough baritone and with bedroom eyes.

"No, you can log on for free like every other customer, _Kusoo_ *. And you would definitely be the ass in password."

The  _shitty_ retort caused Kuroo to unattractively snort, before bringing a gangly hand to cover his mouth; although that sharp smirk was still visible and could cut through the thickest layers of verbal defense.

Kei didn’t even bother to wait for the next idiotic provocation that was sure to spill out from the man's mouth before continuing his actual job, since he wasn’t paid for his sick burns. “What’s the order.” the blonde demanded, again, not in the form of a question.

“I’d like a tall, extra-hot blonde barista please, but I guess I’ll settle for a Venti Blonde Flat White.” Kuroo ordered, but it sounded more like a catcall. Of course, no matter how fun it was to try and provoke the cutie behind the register, he needed to actually order if he wanted to get back to work before getting fired.

“That would be my stripper name.” 

“...” 

“...”

”...” 

It took both parties a long couple of seconds before either realized what just came out of the barista's mouth.

 _Oh. My._ _GOD_.Kuroo thought as his jaw fell on the floor. _Venti_   _Blonde Flat White._  He could barely even think, because for the first time in recorded history, the Master of Provocation was left speechless. 

It took a few beats for Tsukishima to realize that the words had left his mouth, and it took another second for him to realize he said it _at work_. His hazel eyes shot wide open and he gulped. Every atom in his body was fighting the urge to burn up in a mortified blush, but Tsukishima was determined to not let this douche-canoe win. 

Finally, Kei managed to clear his stopped throat. Then he glances away from the register and up at the man in front of him, unable to control the red blush that crept onto his pale cheeks. 

“... $5.46...” he said with far less poison in his tone than he had tried for. But for _gods sakes_ , Tsukishima could literally clock out in a few minutes. Of course his last customer just had to be snarky and sexy and full of shit — and with that thought, his pale face began to rage with a blush.

"..."

_Fuck. I think I’m in love._

That thought blinded the cat-eyed man to all reason, as he quickly pulled out all of the paper bills in his wallet, and dropped probably $30 into Tsukishima’s hand. _Fuck_ , even the slight graze of skin contact against those long and spindly fingers made Kuroo’s heart skip. 

The normally smooth and slick playboy persona that was so easy for Kuroo to step into was dead and gone. In its wake, laid a bumbling pre-pubescent boy who couldn’t flirt to save his own ass. 

“K-Keep the change.” Kuroo managed before giving a slight nod, and rushing past the display of over-priced mugs and tempting treats.

Finally after the man left — who would be lucky if Kei didn't poison his drink out of spite  __— the barista grabbed the nearest employee to him, and sent them a glare that read as " _Cover me. Now._ " It would take more than steaming milk to blow off all the steam that conversation had produced, but anything was better than dealing with another customer. 

Pacing did little to help Kuroo's racing heart and racing thoughts. Which, would also be aggravated by a caffeine overload soon enough, and would hopefully grant Kuroo sweet, sweet death. But if he was going to die anyway, he might as well try to grant his own dying wish and get that barista's number. 

His idea was great in theory, albeit possibly disastrous in actuality. Kuroo's short-circuited brain could only come up with one possible solution to get that number. Even if it shit was about to hit the fan, the makeup artist was glad he always kept a pen in his apron  — and that he hadn't taken it off before coming for coffee. 

As Tsukishima dotted the foam of the Flat White, the urge to clock out a few minutes early grew strong. He could easily let some other barista handle the dumbass and his drink, but as Kei aggressively fit the white lid onto the rim of the cup, the need to assert dominance and come out on top of  _whatever this was_ flared even stronger.

_Or do I want to bottom?_

Kei choked at his subconscious desire to make his life all the more difficult, and it took everything he had to not drop the hot cup of coffee in his hand. He had to steady himself with a shaky breath before heading to the counter. One last obstacle before he could finally leave the Fourth Circle of Hell*, and that obstacle was named:

"Kuroo!" The barista called out, not trusting himself to call out his damn first name.

Tsukishima tried to set the coffee down, and leave to go clock out as fast as he possibly could, but he was apparently not fast enough to fight against the other man's catlike reflexes. 

His hand, which Kei hadn’t even realized that he had placed on the counter, was trapped by an equally large (but surprisingly well moisturized?) hand. Another lanky hand that matched the captor held a pen eerily close to Tsukishima's own skin. 

“So _Blonde Flat White_ , next time — drinks are on me.” Kuroo said as he clicked the ballpoint pen, poised to write something, presumably a number, on the barista’s hand. 

However, the barista masterfully swept his hand out from under Tetsurou's, and Tsukishima had absolutely no problem glaring daggers at the offending man and sneering. 

“Check the damn cup before you write on someone without their consent next time.” Kei said before quickly turning around and towards the break room, green apron already off. 

Sure enough, just under the coffee sleeve and not obscured by the order sticker, was a neatly written number and the name: — Tsukishima. 

Kuroo Tetsurou had finally met his match. 

**Author's Note:**

> Yeah so this got written because all I do is procrastinate everything I am supposed to be doing/writing, and I saw this tumblr post... and so I had to write...
> 
> I apologize for this trash, but I hope you enjoyed it!
> 
> Also here are some notes on things I felt compelled to clarify:  
> 1) Yomi - Japanese folk lore and the word for "land of the dead" or World of Darkness. Basically, hell.  
> 2) I guess this is set in America for some reason, but I’m too lazy to do research into Japanese malls and equivalents of this stuff like I normally do. It’s a dumb coffee shop AU, I’m not putting /that/ much effort into it cuz it’s not /that/ important.  
> 3) I apologize for any and all cursing, I just didn’t feel aptly capable of writing Kuroo and Tsukki level snark without it. I also apologize because I know that 90% of people in the service industry would never curse on the job, but oh well.  
> 4) The nickname Kusoo is a play on the Japanese word for "crap" or "shit": Kuso.  
> 5) $5.46 is what I could find as the price for a venti blonde flat white where I live, so prices may vary. Also that is unnecessarily expensive for some hot bean water.  
> 6) In Dante's Inferno, Dante describes the 9 Circles of Hell. The Fourth Circle represents Greed, and is occupied by those who are to be punished for hoarding possessions or those who lavishly spent. I.e., Starbucks.  
> Thank you again for reading this fic, and I would love to hear what y'all think about it or if y'all laughed at any of my dumb jokes. Remember, the ultimate power move is to use so many puns, that someone else gets so angry they pop a boner/want to hate f*ck.
> 
> (Disclaimer: do not take ANY of my advice. ever)


End file.
